She felt him before she saw him, the magnet that was Samuel seeming to affect her bearing. The quickening in her blood was a sour feeling as, upon sight of him, her panic spiked. He looked skeletal, his proud shoulders hunched like a carrion bird. There was a shadow in his eyes that spilled over into the hollowed pits of his cheeks. It had only been a week that seemed to stretch for months and years since she left him alone in Whitechapel. How had he lost this much weight?

The rush of joy she expected to feel at his presence was lacking today, replaced with something that felt much too close to a warning. She knew she couldn't ask directly about his activities or her lack of role in them. They'd established that line between them, and she would honor it, even as she ached to know what was happening to him. She never promised not to worry about his health. She saw the color change in his sallow skin, making something catch in her throat. She was not a welcome presence, but she had committed to her course. She fought to keep thought at bay, but sure enough, the sight of him was distressing enough to bypass her attempts to block out her fears. What if this was the last time she would see him?

"Professor Griffith, it is good to see you." Even if it hurt every time they parted ways.

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